Scarpering Off II: Electric Boogaloo
Location: FARC encampment along the Columbia/Venezuela Border:
Guerilla Commander Tomas Vega sat in the shelter of one of the encampment's outbuildings, sipping a cup of tea as he watched the Combaticons. For all intents and purposes, they did not appear to be up to anything unusual. Their leader, Asalto, was standing off to one side of the camp, seemingly staring up at the sky, while the others were scattered about. Estafa, the conniving one who smiled too much and spoke fluent Spanish was standing and talking with Reyerta, the angry one and the excitable one, Vortice. And, as usual, Cohete was seated as far away from the bulk of the encampment as he could be -- though anyone with the brains to watch him could see the way his gaze followed some of the female soldiers.
Tomas had been watching these robots, ever since their first arrival in the encampment. Unlike his superiors, he was disinclined to trust them. Estafa had made pretty speeches on behalf of his teammates and even Tomas had to admit that their added firepower had been more than useful, but clearly they did not look upon the FARC as anything but a way station before they moved on to their next objective.
And judging by the sudden, subtle, anticipatory shift in each Combaticon’s mood, Tomas suspected that they would be moving on soon. The question was whether it would be best to stay and help defend the encampment, should the robots attack them before they left or to find some excuse to take himself and his squads away from this place, to find a new Column Commander who would not foolishly think he could control such monsters as these. His two squads, one way or the other would not turn the tide of battle. His people were mostly new recruits, barely half truly old enough to fight as front line soldiers. A handful of children would make no difference in the long run, particularly not if the Combaticons merged into El Bruto.
It would not be an easy decision. Tomas only hoped he’d be able to come up with an answer before it was too late.
# # #
If he'd had a mouth, Onslaught was sure he'd be beaming in pride. The Autobots' offer had come just in time to give himself and his team a sense of purpose again -- as well as a chance to make good on a promise Onslaught had made to himself vorn ago: to gain true freedom for himself and his brothers.
He was sure none of their human 'allies' suspected anything about their plans to leave. His brothers were all being careful, outwardly at least, to hide their emotions. Internally, it was a different story. Their latest assignment was being discussed, debated and enthusiastically anticipated over their private radio channels.
//[Avoid speaking in any human tongue,]// Onslaught said, slipping into the harsh, slang-heavy Cybertronian dialect of their adoptive district.
//[No kidding, Ons]// Swindle said. //[C’mon, you think we’re stupid or something? No offense, Brawl.]//
//[Slag you,]// Brawl said. //[When we leaving’ Ons? How come we ain’t goin’ now?]//
//[The Autobot needs make arrangements for our payment.]// Onslaught said. //[For now, we wait and act natural to avoid raising the humans’ suspicions.]//
//[But, aren’t we normally pretty suspicious?]// Vortex asked in the mock-innocent tones he used when he was trying to be a deliberate pain.
//[Be quiet, Vortex,]// Blast Off snapped. //[The sooner we leave this mudpit, the happier I will be! I‘m going on a flight; contact me when it is time to leave.]// With that, Blast Off stood and rose into the air, rocketing quickly toward the upper atmosphere.
//[Touchy,]// Vortex sniffed. //[What got crammed up his afterburners?]//
//[Who cares?]// Swindle said. //[Hey, Ons, I was talking to Vortex and we think we got a couple good ideas on how to bust those interceptors they got on TCIII, wanna hear ‘em?]//
//[Proceed,]// Onslaught said, allowing himself to be distracted for the moment. There would be time to deal with Blast Off's fit of temper later.
-----
OOC Note: Spanish translations of the Combaticon names come straight from an online English/Spanish/English dictionary and should be considered about as accurate as 80s TV Spanish would be. Information on FARC, including ranks, is taken straight from Wikipedia and is again likely to be as accurate as an 80s TV action show.
Scene references this conversation
Guerilla Commander Tomas Vega sat in the shelter of one of the encampment's outbuildings, sipping a cup of tea as he watched the Combaticons. For all intents and purposes, they did not appear to be up to anything unusual. Their leader, Asalto, was standing off to one side of the camp, seemingly staring up at the sky, while the others were scattered about. Estafa, the conniving one who smiled too much and spoke fluent Spanish was standing and talking with Reyerta, the angry one and the excitable one, Vortice. And, as usual, Cohete was seated as far away from the bulk of the encampment as he could be -- though anyone with the brains to watch him could see the way his gaze followed some of the female soldiers.
Tomas had been watching these robots, ever since their first arrival in the encampment. Unlike his superiors, he was disinclined to trust them. Estafa had made pretty speeches on behalf of his teammates and even Tomas had to admit that their added firepower had been more than useful, but clearly they did not look upon the FARC as anything but a way station before they moved on to their next objective.
And judging by the sudden, subtle, anticipatory shift in each Combaticon’s mood, Tomas suspected that they would be moving on soon. The question was whether it would be best to stay and help defend the encampment, should the robots attack them before they left or to find some excuse to take himself and his squads away from this place, to find a new Column Commander who would not foolishly think he could control such monsters as these. His two squads, one way or the other would not turn the tide of battle. His people were mostly new recruits, barely half truly old enough to fight as front line soldiers. A handful of children would make no difference in the long run, particularly not if the Combaticons merged into El Bruto.
It would not be an easy decision. Tomas only hoped he’d be able to come up with an answer before it was too late.
# # #
If he'd had a mouth, Onslaught was sure he'd be beaming in pride. The Autobots' offer had come just in time to give himself and his team a sense of purpose again -- as well as a chance to make good on a promise Onslaught had made to himself vorn ago: to gain true freedom for himself and his brothers.
He was sure none of their human 'allies' suspected anything about their plans to leave. His brothers were all being careful, outwardly at least, to hide their emotions. Internally, it was a different story. Their latest assignment was being discussed, debated and enthusiastically anticipated over their private radio channels.
//[Avoid speaking in any human tongue,]// Onslaught said, slipping into the harsh, slang-heavy Cybertronian dialect of their adoptive district.
//[No kidding, Ons]// Swindle said. //[C’mon, you think we’re stupid or something? No offense, Brawl.]//
//[Slag you,]// Brawl said. //[When we leaving’ Ons? How come we ain’t goin’ now?]//
//[The Autobot needs make arrangements for our payment.]// Onslaught said. //[For now, we wait and act natural to avoid raising the humans’ suspicions.]//
//[But, aren’t we normally pretty suspicious?]// Vortex asked in the mock-innocent tones he used when he was trying to be a deliberate pain.
//[Be quiet, Vortex,]// Blast Off snapped. //[The sooner we leave this mudpit, the happier I will be! I‘m going on a flight; contact me when it is time to leave.]// With that, Blast Off stood and rose into the air, rocketing quickly toward the upper atmosphere.
//[Touchy,]// Vortex sniffed. //[What got crammed up his afterburners?]//
//[Who cares?]// Swindle said. //[Hey, Ons, I was talking to Vortex and we think we got a couple good ideas on how to bust those interceptors they got on TCIII, wanna hear ‘em?]//
//[Proceed,]// Onslaught said, allowing himself to be distracted for the moment. There would be time to deal with Blast Off's fit of temper later.
-----
OOC Note: Spanish translations of the Combaticon names come straight from an online English/Spanish/English dictionary and should be considered about as accurate as 80s TV Spanish would be. Information on FARC, including ranks, is taken straight from Wikipedia and is again likely to be as accurate as an 80s TV action show.
Scene references this conversation